


I Loved, and I Loved and I Lost You

by RisingShadows



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23554324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisingShadows/pseuds/RisingShadows
Summary: Soulmates so rarely survive the death of the other. But he has a task.
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	I Loved, and I Loved and I Lost You

“Am I dying?” Tom’s voice was a whisper. One hand clutching at his stomach as he blinked up at Will, surprise clear in his eyes even as they drifted away from his. Blinking slowly as he gasped in another breath and Will tightened his grip, closing his eyes as he steadied his breath. 

“Yes I think you are.” The words are a flash-fire of pain. The punch of a bullet tearing through skin, the dull ache of a knife. The crushing all consuming pain tearing through his ribs, crushing his lungs beneath its weight. For a moment he tastes blood in his mouth, gasps in a breath that aches even as he blinks through the pain. 

Soulmates rarely survive the loss of their other half. This pain was a promise, a promise that they wouldn’t be separated. Not for long at the very least. 

“Love, please, please-” Will shushes him, presses his lips to his forehead as the other blinks wide eyes up at him. Grasps for his hand with his own bloody one and Will knows he’s doing no good putting pressure on a wound when the other is already dying. But it hurts to let go, to lift his hand and intertwine their fingers. 

“I’ll go, I’ll go Tom. Shhhh, I’ll go.” It’s enough. Enough to calm the other as he blinks up at him and Will knows by now that he’s forgotten. Forgotten that soulmates so rarely live on without the other. “I’ll make it to your brother, I promise Tom, I’ll make it.”

The breath drifts against his cheek when Will leans in and for a moment he can ignore the pain still building. Ignore the aching pain in his stomach, the blood in his mouth. The slow crushing pain that was spreading through his body, tearing at muscle and bone as Tom shook in his arms. 

And went still. One last breath ghosting across Will’s cheek as he leaned in, pressed one last kiss to his lovers forehead and breathed a soft keening cry. It was all he could give, slowly extricating himself from the other and turning. 

He had a task to complete. He had a mission, Tom’s last request. 

He started walking. 

His heart beat a steady thrum in his ears, the crushing ache a reminder of the other’s last request. Exhaustion dragging at his bones, pulling at him as he stumbled and continued on. As he blinked awake on the stairs of a building he couldn’t remember through the haze of pain that told him his soul was dead. 

That told him he had to move, to live if only long enough to complete this task. 

Around him, the ruins of town burned. Bullets ricochet and he wondered briefly if that would hurt worse. Worse than the all encompassing pain, worse than the ache that spread from his stomach, to his lungs until it stole his breath and crushed his throat as easily as the boy beneath his hands.

Until he was stumbling as he ran and the ache was a distant background thought. The ache was nothing compared to the knowledge that when he turned there would be no smiling boy. When he turned the second half of his soul wouldn’t be there to smile at him as he always did. 

And then he was choking, on the pain that filled him, on the water that drifted around him. Dragging him onwards and towards that final task. Petals, cherry blossoms drifting around him, and he can’t fail, can’t fall now not when he will fail the only one that matters anymore. 

He drags himself over, tumbling over men long dead and newly dead and it hurts to stumble to his feet. To drag himself on as he wanders forward and breathes through shards of glass that fill his lungs, the splitting pain in his stomach. 

A never ending reminder. Of what he has lost and what he needs to do, of the souls he will save. Of 1600 men that he can’t let die. Of a brother he must find. 

He falls against the trunk of a tree and listens, a song drifting through the trees and he is so close. So close but every breath is a ragged gasp, another sharp pain, another reminder that it was too late. Too late for everything. 

And then there was a hand dragging him to his feet, that aching pain a flair he could ignore as he stumbled barely managing to maintain his footing and turned. He was here, he was here and so were the Devons.

He was running across the top, stumbling to his feet through it all. The echo of shells and rifles and whistles filling the air around him and he was so close yet so far and then he was there. Stumbling to a halt in front of a man who did not care for the life of one soldier, did not care for the letter clutched in bloody hands. 

He took it, he took it and Will was done. Done and bleeding and breathing still because he had one task. One task left and he couldn’t fall. Couldn’t give in yet. 

“Lieutenant-” He stumbles another gasping breath as the man turns and Tom was right. And wrong all at once. Lieutenant Joseph Blake looks like his brother, a little older, but he is not nearly so all encompassing and Will can barely hold the cry from his lips as the man blinks at him. Can barely stop from sinking to his knees, from finally, finally stopping. “Lieutenant Blake.”

“Yes.” For a moment he frowns and Will can see just how similar they are and it  _ hurts _ , like ice in his veins. As if his ribs are being crushed. “Do you need medical assistance?’

“No sir, I’m from the eighth.” And he can see the argument on the tip of the man’s tongue even as he continues. “There’s nothing they could do for me sir.” 

He sees the moment that realization hits, when the man lunges towards him and Will almost laughs at it all. There is nothing anyone can do for him not. 

“Schofield, you’re Schofield aren’t you?” Of course he knows, it was never like Tom to keep it a secret. No one cared who your soulmate was after all, not anymore. His hands were heavy as he reached up, palm upturned as he offered the rings he’d taken and met devastated blue eyes with his own. So similar and yet not the same at all. 

“William, sir, Will Schofield. I, I’m sorry. It was quick.” 

Slowly the man adjusts his grip and lifts, pulling Will’s arm over his shoulder as he nods and he hadn’t realized he was shaking. Every breath a struggle as the other man started walking, gently depositing him against a tree before he settled beside him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I should, should’ve done more-” He failed, he failed and his better half paid for it, his soul and it hurts more than anything. More than the ache of a stab wound in his stomach, the ragged pain of grief that steals the breath from his lungs. 

“Sh, sh, it’s okay. It’s okay Will, you did your best. It’s okay.” There is an arm wrapped around his shoulder, guiding his head to rest on the other man’s shoulder as he shushes him. Gently, so gently as if Will matters without the other by his side. 

He wonders when breathing had gotten so hard, if it had been a steady change as he slumps against the older man’s side. But the pain is easing, slipping away along with everything else. And the hand in his is warm, gentle as a thumb rubs against the back of his palm and the man murmurs a wordless tune. 

It should be words, Will knows that but he can’t bring himself to care as he drifts. 

Soulmates never live long without the other, and it has already been far too long. 

Tom is waiting, it’d be rude to make him wait any longer. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'll just uh see myself out... If there are any errors I'll admit I only skim edited this because it made me sad!  
> I already apologized to the 2nd Devons for this but I'll do that again too.


End file.
